


Nocte Consilium

by Providentia67



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode 127-128 Spoilers, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Self-Doubt, Warning: Trent Ikithon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:35:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Providentia67/pseuds/Providentia67
Summary: “You were not born with venom in your veins, Caleb Widogast.”  The words come easy, like a practiced mantra, and though Essek has not repeated them to himself, for Caleb he finds them simple to recall.  “You learned it.”
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Nocte Consilium

**Author's Note:**

> Slight Star Wars AU in honor of that sublime Darth Vader hallway scene

The surface of Eiselcross is bitter and cold. Essek finds it fitting for what it is he means to do here. The chill is impersonal, the wild, spirited nature of the Force that whips the entirety of the planet is one that refuses to be controlled. Not by him, not by the Republic, the Dynasty, or even the Empire. It is a strange freedom he had not expected, even as he feels his own powers caged by limitations he has not experienced since first learning to grasp his numerous abilities. Here, standing alone in the chilling darkness of night with nothing but endless snow below and starless sky above, he is just a man. There is no great power to be wrought against the innocent and it feels like the wind itself could carry him away.

Out here, he does not even try to float. The tips of his ears are already beginning to sting and although his coat and robes are lined with fur of tauntauns bred specially for this environment, he does not think he will be able to remain outdoors for much longer. The wind whips against his side to fill his head with hollow screams and the sound of his own fluttering cloak.

Like a war flag hoisted over a battlefield.

The air hisses and suddenly there is warmth billowing behind him. The amber glow of artificial light casts Essek’s shadow stark and tall against the crystalline snow and the metal pounding of footsteps comes louder and louder as his solitude is interrupted. 

“I installed sensors to the docking bay,” says Caleb, stepping casually into view at his side. His hair is pulled back, as is the style he seems to prefer, but still there are locks of red that Essek can see being pulled by the wind. They frame the human’s face in a way that almost looks like blood streaking across his pale cheeks. Essek glances away.

“Should I be expecting a mob soon, then?” He is already bracing himself for Jester’s diving embrace. His trepidation must show on his face -he used to be so much better at hiding his emotions- because he hears Caleb chuckle. It is a quiet, subdued thing.

“Don’t worry, friend. The alert is to my quarters only.”

“Ah.” So they are alone. They stand in silence a while longer, the lowering dock of the _Nascent Tower_ left open to provide them with light and warmth. He suspects that Caleb would be content to simply spend the night in quiet companionship, but Essek closes his eyes and releases the air in his lungs with a sigh. The tracking dampener hung around his neck sits heavy against his chest. “Thank you, again,” he says, hand drifting up to feel the space over his robes.

For the first time, blue eyes drift to him. “It was owed. What we’ve- what I’ve done, has put you in great danger.”

Essek huffs, his lips dragging themselves upward in a forced smile. “No greater than the danger I’ve already put myself in.” 

Caleb does not respond other than to continue watching him carefully. Essek wonders if Eiselcross has dampened Caleb’s ability to read him as much as it has the other way around. Not that Caleb’s mental shields were anything to sneeze at before, but now there is nothing. It is as if the Force around them acts as his camouflage. “Are you, alright?” he asks eventually. “You don’t have to tell me but, you’ve been- I’m not sure- unsteady, since your return.”

In the distance, illuminated faintly by the _Nascent’s_ light, Essek tracks a pack of wolf-like creatures moving south-east across their path. The hunters pay the two no mind, and disappear as quickly as they arrived. To his left, Caleb breathes deep, and when he opens his eyes from a slow and purposeful blink, they are no longer blue.

“We went to Vergesson,” he says. Essek blinks, and his next breath is caught by the wind. He remains in silence, mouth partly agape as Caleb continues to speak. “It was for the dampeners. We found them, but I-” and his voice trails off. He turns on his heel, rotating to face Essek, and the drow does the same in return. With an absent wave of his hand Caleb closes the _Nascent’s_ doors and the light the ship casts over them dies, sealing the rest of the Might Nein away within. 

Once they are again in darkness, Caleb speaks. “I- I thought that I was different, that maybe I could take what he’d done to me and-” his wind-chapped lips are moving but nothing comes out. Essek watches his brows furrow in frustration as Caleb curses to himself in Zemnian.

With hesitant but purposeful movements, Essek raises his gloved hands. “Will you show me?” he asks. For a moment there is no response and just as he begins to suspect he has stepped too far out of line, Caleb catches his lowering wrist.

“Are you sure?” Caleb’s eyes burn a worrying amber glow and Essek cannot help but be transfixed. So odd a tell, that the Sith have fostered amongst themselves. Almost as much so as the tattooed marks carried by their Vollstrucker agents. Caleb wets his lips, staring intently at Essek’s hand in his grip. “You’ve never seen me, that way.”

Essek’s lips twist themselves in a wry but honest smile. “You forget, Caleb. I’ve meditated on you many times.” He pulls his hand gently free and sets fingers along Caleb’s temple. “I would share this burden with you, as one who is no innocent. If you’ll have me.”

His eyes may not shine with Darkness, but the same cold aura of the Force subsumes Essek as it does Caleb, and he knows the human understands that.

“Okay then.” Caleb’s eyes drift shut, and then the barriers fall.

As Shadowhand, Essek has pressed into the minds of many, some willing and many not. He knows what it is like to live through the memories of another’s horrific acts, witness them firsthand, and tread through the sea of emotion and turmoil that almost always follows. But what he is learning now, is that it is different when he cares for the one that is suffering.

To Caleb, he knows that the hallway feels endless. The walls are cagelike and suffocating and the air burns like ash in his lungs. Red bleeds at the edges of his vision and all he can hear is the rushing of his own blood in his ears. The humming, yellow saberstaff in his hand is unfamiliar, but power radiates from it to fuel the endless rage and fear that Caleb is allowing to drive his power to excess. A guard moves forward with a blaster, and lightning crackles down his arm. Caleb casts it forward and a giddy laugh nearly bubbles forward as the human crumbles into a charred husk.

Veth is there too, present but hazy in the memory, and Jester somewhere even further removed. Essek’s focus is kept as forward as Caleb’s and when another Imperial bursts through the door he is almost shocked into dropping the connection when Caleb raises his hand, reminiscent of something Essek himself had once done. The guard pauses for a moment, caught in a vortex of gravity, and Caleb slams him to the ceiling, crushing his hand into a fist as blood splatters from the guard’s every orifice. The next one suffers a similar fate.

The hall becomes a gallery of death, and even as two of the soldiers wielding vibrosword and staff manage to get in close, they do meager damage, even with Caleb’s subpar martial skills and unpracticed weapon, before they are sent into the void by the lightning dancing on his fingertips. By the time they reach their quarry Caleb’s robes are dripping in red, stray sparks dance over his skin, and while his shoulders are rising and falling with growing effort, Essek can feel the human’s eyes wide with manic glee.

_Stay on task, Widogast._

The vision fades, and suddenly Essek finds himself thrust back into the cold. The hot rush of blood fades and he opens his eyes to find himself panting and shaking before a concerned Caleb. His eyes are once again blue and he is looking away, out into the snow. “My master- Trent found me there,” he says. “We almost- I lured him straight to us, then to Jester’s family, to Veth’s.” Caleb sucks air between his teeth and one of his arms clamps down hard over his opposite forearm, clawing through layers of winter robes down to the skin beneath. “I was so stupid. I practically flaunted what I learned from you, the teachings you trusted me with!” He looks on the verge of hyperventilation.

“And worse,” he brings his head into his hands and Essek thinks his presence may have been partially forgotten. “He’s in my head. I let the Dark in, opened myself up to it and Master Ikithon used it to sneak his way back in.”

“A training bond,” says Essek, and Caleb nods.

“I thought I’d severed it. I thought I’d changed enough that he couldn’t lay claim to me like that anymore.” He turns and glances up at the ship carrying the main body of their allies. “But I haven’t. It doesn’t matter what the others say, or what they believe. I am still his apprentice.”

“No.” Essek puts his hand on Caleb’s shoulder and holds it firm. “You are not.” With a deep breath he lets his hand trace the length of Caleb’s arm until he has the human’s palm wrapped in his. “You were not born with venom in your veins, Caleb Widogast.” The words come easy, like a practiced mantra, and though Essek has not repeated them to himself, for Caleb he finds them simple to recall. “You learned it.” The hand in his grip twitches. “And though venom may leave its scars, they need not define you. You are here, with these wonderful, ridiculous people, who proudly wear the name you gave them like a banner. You fight to leave every place you touch better than it was before.” He takes a stuttering breath and continues. “Those are not the deeds of a man who is servant to Trent Ikithon.”

“Essek.” Caleb’s voice trembles, and he gives his head a single shake.

“Listen to me, Caleb. You know what I have done.” And it still shocks him, to think this human man, Imperial-born, Sith-taught, could witness the fruits of Essek’s folly and still offer him some chance at redemption. “I understand what it is to feel horror at your own actions. And that is why I tell you, that if I am to believe there is any hope for me, then I must know that there is at least some for you.”

Caleb glances down to their entwined hands. “Then you and I are both damned,” he says. “Because even after all this time, I have not changed. At all.” Essek catches flashes of thought, images that Caleb must be projecting to him from across the small distance between them. Expressions of horror, tears welling in Jester’s eyes, Veth with blood sprayed against her cheeks staring up at him in fear, a beautiful red tiefling sitting pale and shaking on the ground, and a halfling man and boy clutching each other in terror. In his ears are the roars of flames and a pair of screams. When the visions fade, Caleb is facing him with frozen tracks against his cheeks.

“Everything around me burns.”

Essek is not sure if there is anything left he could say to heal wounds as raw as the ones he can see on Caleb’s soul. So instead, he stands with him in the dark and cold. “Very well. Then let us descend into Hell together, and take as many monsters with us as we go.”

That breaks a laugh from Caleb’s lips and he brings a hand up to cover his mouth even as the wind carries away most of his voice. “You know,” he says. “Originally, I came out here to comfort you.” The look he casts Essek is one as rueful as it is contrite.

Essek smirks, letting himself immerse in the feeling of the wind tossing through his hair just as it is Caleb’s. Red and white, dancing in a black sky. “The thought is appreciated.”

“Essek, if we die tomorrow, I want you to know-”

“Don’t.” Essek pulls his hand back, and crosses his arms under his robes and against his chest. He can feel Caleb’s eyes on him, his mind pressing lightly against his shields, but Essek does not let him in and keeps his eyes pointed strictly forward. “Save it for tomorrow night. After we save the galaxy.”

“You know, there is every chance we will fail, or that one of us won’t make it.” He knows, of course he does. Their enemy is great, and has his claws already sunken into two of their number.

“Then think of it as motivation.” Essek looks over and stares transfixed at the human who has shaken every perception of value and meaning he has had in his life. “Stay alive, Caleb.”

“Only if you swear to do the same, my friend.” There is a hand on his shoulder, and it sits for a moment before Essek watches Caleb shift and turn. Behind him, the _Nascent’s_ doors open once again, admitting another wave of warm breeze. The hand drops, and Essek listens to the sound of footsteps as they disappear back up into comfort of the Might Nein’s home. “Are you coming?” 

“In a moment.” Caleb disappears but the ship’s doors are left open, a waiting invitation that Essek has every intention of accepting. But first, he turns back to the dark sky of Eiselcross and lifts his head, eyes closed. He has never been one for religion, never subscribed to the Dynasty’s all-encompassing zeal. But just this once, he thinks of the Luxon and prays. “If you’re truly there,” he says. “Keep your Light upon him.” 

The words drift away, unanswered and perhaps unheard, though what is Essek to know. And with nothing else to be done he turns and follows the shade of Caleb’s footsteps up and into the dearest home he has ever known. And one he hopes, somehow, to keep.


End file.
